


a finger grip on a cliffside

by timeinthetardis



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 5x02 The Price, Camelot, F/M, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 12:12:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4919146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeinthetardis/pseuds/timeinthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knowing that she handed over the dagger herself doesn't keep it from hurting the first time Regina uses it, just as the knowledge that Rumpelstiltskin is a figment of her imagination doesn't make him any less terrifying. Emma arrives in Camelot with Killian by her side; she wonders if she might drown without his hand to anchor her to herself. </p><p>Speculation for 5x02 "The Price" based on the Camelot sneak peek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a finger grip on a cliffside

“I am the Savior. I'm the one who's going to free Merlin from that tree, and then we can all take care of the Dark One- and go home.”

Emma feels the sharp sting of magic against her skin as Regina's fingers settle around the hilt of the dagger, forcing her to take a step back and swallow her words. It's all she can do to keep her eyes averted from the space over Regina's shoulder, where Rumple is shaking his head in disgust, and bite down against the bitter taste of betrayal burning her tongue. She'd known, intellectually, that handing over the dagger came with the price of placing herself at the mercy of another person, but the reality of it- the _speed_ with which Regina resorted to using it- hurts far more than she had expected. The faint itch of repressed power in her hands intensifies, and she can almost feel the frantic beat of Regina's heart in her grasp as she-

“Emma,” Killian murmurs, sliding his fingers between hers and tugging her a bit closer to him, “alright, love?”

Sucking in a breath, she nods, managing a small smile as she meets his gaze. “I'm fine.”

He studies her face carefully but doesn't push, giving her hand a quick squeeze. The rest of the group ignores them, their attention alternating between the twisted trunk of the tree and Arthur's explanation of the prophecy, and the tightness clinging to her skin eases as Regina releases her hold on the dagger. Emma tunes Arthur out, focusing on the steady rhythm of Killian's breathing. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inha-

“-and now, while we wait for the moonrise,” Arthur says loudly, breaking her concentration, “Percival will show all of you to your chambers. I know it has been quite a long journey for all of you, and I'm certain you could use a rest before the ceremony.”

“That would be appreciated, thank you,” David says, nodding respectfully to the king. Arthur offers a short bow to the group, settling a hand on the hilt of his sword, and strides off across the grass. They redirect their attention to Percival, who looks somewhat nervous in front of their expectant gazes.

“If you'll follow me,” he says finally, turning to lead the way back into the castle. A harsh jolt of magic sends Emma trotting to the edge of his cape; keeping her iron grip on Killian's hand, she shoots a glare over her shoulder to where she can see Regina adjusting the dagger inside of her jacket. The other woman shrugs at her, taking Robin's arm and bringing up the rear of the group. Killian's fingers flex against Emma's, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand, and she can practically _hear_ him thinking furious thoughts at Regina.

She smiles.

(If nothing else, he's in her corner- and he's a hell of a heavyweight when it comes to fighting for her.)

~~~

Emma isn't entirely sure how their rooms were selected, but at the moment all that matters is that they placed her across from Killian, and she thanks whatever deity might be looking out for her (although really, at this point she wishes they would get off their ass and actually _help_ her) that her parents hadn't forced her to stay with them. For all their care and concern, the way they're walking on eggshells around her is giving her a migraine; she can't imagine what it will be like once realize that she can't fall asleep. Killian, in spite of the worry written across his face, isn't one to coddle her, and she knows (she _knows_ ) that he'll be awake if she needs him- the man barely sleeps when he's safely aboard his own ship.

They are the last to reach their chambers, after the chaos that was insisting Henry stay with Regina (he'd stomped through the door in true teenager fashion, muttering something about 'not a child anymore' as he went, and Emma couldn't help a tiny smile at the fact that yes, something about this situation was still normal) and Neal being permitted to stay with his parents rather than in the royal nursery.

“You need to rest, Killian,” she says, tracing the deep circles under his eyes with the tip of her finger.

“You both do,” Percival says, cutting off whatever saucy response Killian was preparing (going off of the quirk of his eyebrows, it had been a doozy). “It would be best if you both retired until this evening.”

A sharp chill runs down Emma's spine as Percival opens the door to her chamber. She can't sit there and wait, not on her own, but Camelot is clearly not a place where pre-marital _anything_ is encouraged, and she can feel the disapproval radiating off of the knight when she moves closer to Killian.

“I was actually hoping that I could visit your library,” she blurts out, mentally chastising herself as the words register in her brain. Of all the places to go if she doesn't want to be alone in the quiet-

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Percival offers. “For now, I really must insist that you not wander around the castle on your own. You're in a new place, after a long journey, and you could easily get lost for days in here."

“You could take us, mate,” Killian says, but the knight shakes his head.

“I'm afraid I must return to the King. If you would, Lady Swan.” He gestures to the room again.

Hesitantly, she releases Killian's hand from her grip, rolling up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I'll see you later.”

He nods tightly, and she can feel his gaze on her as she steps into the room and shuts the door. There's a brief exchange in the corridor, muffled through the thick wood, and she hears what must be Killian's door open and close.

Taking a deep breath, she walks over to the high windows, pulling aside the heavy curtain to peer outside. She can just see the tree from here, branches waving in the breeze. The knights shimmer as they cross the courtyard, their armor flashing mirror-bright in the sun, and she watches as they gather in a loose circle. Arthur (she thinks- it's hard to tell at this distance) waves a hand towards the tree, before clapping one of the knights on the back.

“I wouldn't trust him, if I were you.” Rumpelstiltskin's voice trills from the chair behind her and she jumps, dropping the curtain. “Then again, I am you, so I don't know why I'm bothering. You already don't trust him.”

“I don't have any reason not to trust him,” Emma retorts, and he giggles.

“You'll have plenty of time to think about it, trapped in this room. Moonrise isn't for hours yet, after all.”

She rubs her eyes hard, willing him to vanish. “I'm going for a walk.”

“They'll just bring you back if they find you,” he chastises.

“Then it's a good thing I know how to sneak around, isn't it?”

He vanishes, reappearing in the middle of the enormous bed. “Much better use of your time to sit here and pick a hobby for yourself. You said no to the spinning and knitting- how about baking?” Rumpelstiltskin bounces against the mattress, sending the stacks of velvet pillows flying into the air as he chortles to himself. “Can't run away from it forever, dearie. You'll have to be alone sometime.”

“Shut up,” she hisses, turning her back on him as she presses her ear to the door, “I'm trying to hear.”

Heavy footsteps echo through the corridor, fading as they move away from her chamber. Barely breathing, Emma cracks the door open, peering out into the dim light.

“You could just use your magic to check, you know,” Rumple says, leaning casually against the wall next to her and examining his nails.

“Yes, I do know, now shut it,” she snaps back. The corridor seems deserted- she can hear the faint sound of voices from somewhere to her left, but there's no one in sight. Perfect.

Easing the door wider, she slips out of the room, closing it quietly behind her. She's not entirely sure why she's sneaking around like a teenager after curfew, but something about this place sets her on edge. Back in her world, she'd say it was her superpower, or just a gut instinct; here, body thrumming with dark magic, she's not sure how much she trusts herself.

“Regina is already asleep. You could get the dagger back, and nobody could control you again,” Rumple announces, gesturing towards the door to her room. “You thought today was bad? Just wait until she really compels you to do something.”

Emma finds herself halfway down the corridor before she realizes she's moving. Stumbling to a halt, she squeezes her eyes shut, focusing on her breathing rather than the insistent tug of magic against her skin. “She's trying to help me, like I asked her to.”

“Help you?” Rumple laughs, the discordant giggle echoing off of the stone walls. “What a stupid idea. She's always wanted power over you and you've just handed it over to her. As if you can trust her!”

“I _can_ trust her,” Emma whispers, and winces as he laughs again. Opening her eyes, she watches as he paces in front of her, reptilian skin glinting in the torchlight.

“What happens when you become inconvenient, hmmm?” He taps her on the nose and she reels away from him, catching herself against the wall. “When she realizes that all she has to do is _will_ you to never see Henry again, and you'll have to follow her orders?”

“She wouldn't do that,” Emma says, trying to inject some confidence into her words and failing miserably.

He snorts. “Are you certain? You've never done anything that she might want revenge for, such as... bringing her boyfriend's wife back from the dead?”

“She understands that, she isn't still-”

“It _is_ a dish best served cold, dearie,” Rumple says, wrapping one arm around her shoulders while using the other the gesture theatrically, “and I'd say it's nicely chilled at this point.”

“Regina can't keep me away from my son,” she hisses, twisting out of his grip, and he shrugs.

“Oh, but she can, and you know it. Why let yourself suffer?” he says lightly. “Get in there and take back what's yours.”

The steady pull of magic intensifies, humming loudly in her ears, and it _hurts._ If this is why Gold was such an unrepentant asshole about giving Belle the real dagger, Emma finds herself rapidly coming around to his point of view. Yearning is hardly the word for it; every particle of her being aches to have the dagger safely in her hand, to embrace the rising tide of power that swells and surges with every passing moment. If she could let her guard down for a second, just for the space of a breath, if she could rest without fear, she knows she could handle it, knows it wouldn't-

“Stop _thinking_ ,” Rumple snarls, and her head jerks up. “You know what you have to do, so _go do it_. These people don't know what's best for you- just look at what happened in the forest! If they'd only let you kill that girl, the will o' the wisp could have helped you free Merlin by now, but you were too weak.”

“Stop it,” she says, skirting around him to go back towards her room. It was stupid, to think that she could _walk this off_ ; she kept forgetting that he was in her head, unable to be thrown off by her attempts at escape.

“Or what? Going to call your boyfriend on me?” He places himself in front of the door to her chamber, narrowing his eyes as Emma yanks her hand away from the handle. “He won't be able to help you forever.”

“He's never let anything stop him before, I doubt that some dark magic is going to be the deal-breaker here,” she points out, letting a smile unfurl across her own face.

“You've never been the Dark One before, dearie.” He steeples his fingers in front of his lips, watching her deflate with something like triumph. “He hunted me for centuries, across worlds and realms that you can barely imagine. What makes you think he won't do the same thing to you?”

“He _loves_ me.” The words fill her with light, because god, how he loves her; sometimes it's blinding, the way that he looks at her, the way that it feels to be looked at like that.

“For now,” he agrees, taking a step forward. She stumbles away, back hitting the door across from hers, and he smirks. “But believe you me- the day will come when you will go to him, and you will feel his hatred before you see it.”

“He loves me,” she says again. He tsks, shaking his head.

“And how long will that last, once he sees you crush a heart in front of him? What do you think it would take to make him forget that you possess the very magic that killed his Milah? You'll have to lay claim to his heart yourself.”

“No,” Emma whispers, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes, “stop it, I won't, _stop_ it.”

“Once you take it, he can never leave you,” Rumple purrs. “He'll be yours forever. Of course, he'll never truly love you again, but the important part is that he won't be able to leave.”

A shudder rips through her and she chokes on a sob, knees giving way as she sinks to the floor. Wrapping her arms around herself, she rocks back against the door, the heavy thump of her skull against the wood a soothing rhythm as she fights to calm herself. On the third hit, the door swings open behind her.

“What the bloody- Emma?” Killian is on his knees beside her in seconds, fingers pressed against her tearstained cheek as he tilts her head up to look at him. “What is it, love?”

She pitches forward into his arms, letting her forehead settle against his collarbone. The familiar scent of leather, sweat, and sea-sweet air surrounds her, the steady rush of his breathing drowning out the roaring in her ears. He strokes her hair gently, winding it around his fingers as he drags his hook soothingly up and down her spine.

“I can't do this, Killian,” she whispers into his skin. “I thought that I could, but-”

“Shhh.” He presses a kiss to the crown of her head. “I've never seen you fail, love, and I don't think you'll be starting now.”

She shakes her head emphatically, clinging to him as if he's the only thing that can keep her from being dragged out to sea (and really, it's irritating that he makes her think so nautically, but there's nothing else she can compare it to; he's always her port in a storm). “You don't understand. This is so much bigger than me, so much stronger. I'm _afraid_ , Killian, and I think - I know- I'm going to lose.”

“I won't let that happen,” he promises, arms tightening around her.

“He's taunting me,” she whispers. “Rumpelstiltskin. I see him everywhere, I can't get rid of him-”

Killian jolts at the mention of his old enemy. “But he-”

“It's not really him,” she continues, “it's me, it's all in my head, and he says the most horrible things, but it's- it's me, Killian, I'm the one thinking them.” Emma shudders, clutching the lapels of his jacket tightly.

“Look at me.”

She shakes her head again, and he sighs, leaning back until he can slide his fingers under her chin to tilt her head up to him.

“Emma.” He scans her face seriously, blue eyes boring into hers. “We will beat this, _together_.”

A clatter of footsteps echoes down the corridor, accompanied by raucous laughter. Getting to his feet, Killian reaches down and scoops Emma off of the cold floor, cradling her against his chest. He carries her into the room, pausing the kick the door shut behind him. Depositing her gently on the enormous bed, he takes a polite step away, starting to pace as she winds a hand around the bedpost.

“This _apparition_ you've seen, the one who looks like Rumpelstiltskin. Is it always there?” he asks finally, running a hand through his hair.

“Not always,” she says softly. “He goes away sometimes.”

“Excellent. Is there a pattern to it?”

“It's only when-” she hesitates for a moment, meeting his gaze cautiously, “-when I'm touching you. And Henry.”

He stops pacing, and it _aches_ , the way his eyes fill with hope. “Then we'll stay by your side until this is all over.”

“Don't be ridiculous, you can't be with me every second-”

“If you want me, Emma, there is nothing that will keep me from you,” he says, settling beside her on the edge of the bed. She manages a watery smile, letting her head droop to his shoulder.

“Nothing's ever stopped you before,” she muses, and she feels his smile against her cheek as he gently rests his head against hers.

“And nothing ever will.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to stay updated on my writing (or join the fun of constant CS blogging), please feel free to check out my [tumblr](http://in-each-place-and-forever.tumblr.com/) and/or my [writing tumblr](http://distinct-elements-of-speech.tumblr.com/).
> 
> The sneak peek that inspired this fic can be found [here](https://youtu.be/okt_-K35dzA).


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